Scars To Your Beautiful
by Silver Spider
Summary: "Why ya give a shit 'bout what other people think?" he scoffed. "Everyone's got scars. If they don't… well, I don't trust perfect things." Part I of Una Salus Victus


**Author's Note:** Taking a small break from Vicky to try my hand at Meredith Quill/Yondu fanfics. Might be more of this later ;) Many thanks to weapon13whitefang over on Tumblr for beta reading this and to all who encouraged me. Please read and review!

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 **Scars To Your Beautiful**

 **By: Silver Spider**

If someone had told Meredith Quill two years ago that the medical facility she'd be standing in was aboard an alien pirate ship, she'd have said that it was a hallucination brought on by her brain tumor. If someone had said two days ago that her precious boy was going to run off and stow away on an M-ship because a scavenging mission with Kraglin sounded fun, she would've said that no, her baby knows better than to give his mama a heart attack after all she'd been through. When someone _had_ told her an hour ago that her son had returned and was in medical, Meredith sent up a silent prayer of thanks and went off to kill the captain.

Luckily for Yondu, he'd beaten her to medical where Peter didn't seem the worse for wear. The ten-year-old was cheerfully chatting up a storm, regaling the doctor with his 'heroics' - "On a mission he weren't invited to," Kraglin was quick to point out from a corner - and demanding to know when he could go again, when he could get his own ship, and a barrage of other questions that were making the captain's brow twitch in annoyance. As far as Meredith was concerned, the blue bastard was damn lucky to have gotten there before her - she had a strict personal rule against violence in front of her baby - and that Peter wasn't too badly hurt, except for a bloody gash above his right brow that the doctor assured her looked far worse than it was.

"Is it gonna scar?" Peter asked hopefully.

"Nah." The doc cleaned the area and applied a purple salve across the scrape. The boy looked disappointed. "What'cha want a scar for?"

"Yondu has cool scars," her son nodded at the captain.

The Centaurian smirked. "Ain't gonna help ya with the ladies, boy."

Peter wrinkled his nose, reminding Meredith that he was in this wonderful in-between age when girls no longer had cooties but he hadn't decided if he liked them or not yet. He looked around at the three Ravagers and stuck out his bottom lip in a half-pout.

"All the cool people have scars."

Yondo folded his arms and tossed her a look that Meredith just knew he considered her left her out of this highly exclusive club.

"I'll have you know," she scowled at him and bunched up her shirt, "I have the best one of all of you."

The three Ravagers and Peter all stared at the six-inch pale mark on her lower belly. Wisely, the doctor was the first to turn away, muttered an excuse about being needed elsewhere, and walked away. Kraglin blinked. "What'd ya get stabbed with?"

"A scalpel," Meredith looked proud, then nodded her head in her son's direction. "Blame this one."

Kraglin looked mildly horrified, but the boy just rolled his eyes. "That's not a _cool_ scar, Mom." She shot him a look, and he blanched. "I mean, you didn't get it in a fight or something."

That… stung. "Excuse _you_ , Mr. Nine-Pound-Transverse-Baby."

Kraglin was still staring at them, bewilderment now mixed with horror. Annoyed, she turned her glare at Yondu. "Please tell me you at least know where babies come from."

It was the wrong thing to say. The captain's crimson eyes sparked with mischief and something darker… something Meredith didn't want to think too much about, as he grinned, showing crooked teeth. "Why, yes, ma'am."

They stared at one another in what felt like a battle of wills, until the spell was broken by Peter who took one look between them, went "eww...", and hopped off the medical table. Meredith felt like she'd just lost whatever battle she'd been fighting.

She was still brooding hours later, well into what constituted as her and Peter's night shift. The boy had passed out almost immediately upon falling into his bunk in their shared quarters. He might not have been seriously hurt, but the adventure had clearly taken a lot out of the child. Not wanting to wake him and unable to sleep herself, she left their room and wandered around the Eclector for a bit before swiping a drink from the galley and, unsurprisingly, ending up in the captain's quarters which was, at the moment, blessedly empty.

But no sooner did she have a chance to land on the floor with her back to the bunk, then the door swished open and the captain walked in, his signature burgundy trench coat trailing behind him. Apparently the moment of solitude wasn't meant to last. Stopping a foot away, Yondu frowned down at her.

"What'chya doin' here, woman?"

Pressing the cool glass in her hand to her temple, Meredith made a face. "Hiding."

"The hell for? From what?" They both knew that no one on-board would've dared to lay a hand on her or Peter, less they wished to face a very swift arrow through the forehead.

"Well," Meredith had to think about the question. "My kid, actually."

"Come again?" His frown deepened.

"My son. You know, the little one with the cherubic face 'til it suits him otherwise."

"Yeah, I know who he is. What's he done now?"

"Nothin' but be the kid that he is. I'm the one who's stupid enough to think I can compete with space pirates in the 'coolness' department," she made air quotes with the fingers of her free hand, "in the eyes of a ten-year-old boy."

Yondu barked out a noise of annoyance. "You _still_ on that?"

"It shouldn't bother me, right?" she ran her fingers through her short hair, which had grown back darker and coarser after chemo. "He's ten, and… are you _laughin'_ at me?"

The captain shook his head, but his shoulders shook with mirth. He sat down cross-legged on the floor next to her, not quite touching. For a moment she thought he might take her hand, but then his fist closed on empty air, as if fighting that impulse. Meredith didn't know if she was disappointed or grateful.

"Meri," the Centaurian's voice was oddly gentle, "that kid worships the space ya sail through."

"No, he worships the space _you_ sail through," she corrected. "We just happen to be on the same ship."

He was looking at her in that way that made her skin itch. Not the leering, mocking way he'd done in medical, but like she was a book with missing pages he was trying to piece together. No one else had ever really studied her that way. Ego's eyes had held desire, but not true interest. Knowing what she knew now, though... It was possible even the former was unlikely to be real... It made her wonder what Yondu saw.

"Now, I know ya ain't stupid," he finally said pointedly. "So stop sayin' stupid shit. It ain't a competition, 'cause I don't have a habit of pickin' losin' fights."

"My kid thinks I'm not cool."

"He's ten!" The captain rolled his crimson eyes. "Today, he thinks bein' a Ravager is 'cool'. Tomorrow, he's gonna wanna join the fuckin' Nova Corps. " He waved his hand about, wrinkling his nose in disgust at the thought before continuing. "So what? Yer still his mama no matter how many times he changes his mind about everythin' else in the universe."

That did make her smile, and they say in companionable silence for a while, until Yondo looked down and nodded his head toward her stomach. "What _did_ happen there?"

"What?" Her hand instinctively went to her belly. "My Cesarean scar? I thought you said you knew where babies come from."

"I know _that_ ," he bristled in irritation. "I meant why'd they have ta yank 'im out like that? That how it's done on Terra?"

"When it's gotta be," Meredith shifted, suddenly uncomfortable. "Sometimes even when it ain't. But Peter wasn't layin' right." She drew the side of her hand horizontally across her stomach. "I tried everythin' to get 'im to turn, but in the end, doctor said it was too risky so they took 'im out this way."

"Don't seem too thrilled."

She snorted. "That my body keeps failin' me when I need it? No, I ain't thrilled."

It was more than just the c-section, of course. It was the year and and misery and retching and being too weak to play with her son. Even now, two years after alien medicine had done what nothing on Earth could – removing the damned tumor – Meredith didn't feel completely one hundred percent. She wondered if she ever would. Yondu must have known that, but he wisely refrained from commenting. Instead he shrugged one broad shoulder.

"Yer alive, ain't cha? And yer kid's alive. Don't think ya should really be complainin' how that happened."

"It just wasn't supposed to happen like _this_ ," she mused. "People back home… there's a certain way things are done, and I did everything wrong."

When Peter was born, everyone in her small Missouri town had smiled and said what a cute baby she had and all other niceties one throws out about a newborn. But Meredith had known. Had known that as soon as her back was turned, those smiles turned into head shakes and mutterings of "poor knocked-up girl" and "what a shame that little boy won't have a daddy". Even her scar was a source of guilt, a reminder of how she couldn't even bring her son into the world the normal way.

Yondu didn't seem to share any of those sentiments.

"Why ya give a shit 'bout what other people think?" he scoffed. "Everyone's got scars. If they don't… well, I don't trust perfect things."

She couldn't have known it then, but they were actually thinking of the same thing. She, about a man from the stars who had the face of an angel but turned out far too good to be true, and he, of a planet, a world whose colors were so vibrant, so saturated that it couldn't possibly be real. The only all-too real thing about it was the cave of bones.

"You're right," Meredith smiled wistfully and raised her glass. "To not givin' a damn."

"I'll drink to that." The captain grinned, and she took a sip before passing him the glass. He took a generous swig, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and gave the glass back to her. " 'Sides, no offense to that kid of yours, but he's wrong; got the best damn scar of anyone on this ship."

She gave a very unlady-like snort. "Stop trying to make me feel better, Yondu."

"Ya know I'm right." He pointed to the hash-like scar tissue on the side of his head. "This? This here's from a Kree asshole whose favorite toy was an electric net. This one," he pulled back his shirt collar to expose the start of a particularly nasty jagged gash, "is from a Luphomoid sword. I'll spare you the rest. Ain't a sight for a lady."

"Ain't a lady," Meredith muttered, but her eyes never left the marred flesh around his collar bone. Pushing back the sudden desire to run her fingers across it, she asked, "What's your point?"

"My point," the Centaurian said, "is that me an' everyone else got theirs by maimin' and killin', but not you. Yers means ya got to live and bring the kid into this world. Ain't bad work for such a little scar."

Meredith found herself smiling, a warm feeling spreading out from the center of her chest and through her face and fingertips. On impulse, she leaned over and pressed her lips against the captain's bristled cheek. He looked at her in startled surprise, but she just smiled again.

"You're a good man, Yondu," she said to him. "Don't let anyone tell you any different."

"Hurmph! I seem to recall your judgment on men ain't shit, sweetheart."

If the comment was meant to make her feel angry or embarrassed, it didn't. Meredith just shrugged. "Maybe I learned from my mistakes. Let's talk about all the stupid shit _you_ did when you were young."

"Let's not." Yondu's expression darkened, and somehow she had a feeling that her comment had caused more damage than his. "We'll be here into next shift and then some."

"I've got nowhere I need to be."

Again there was that odd tension, like a current of electricity between them she couldn't see but continued to probe and prod despite the feeling that it was probably unwise. Meredith couldn't help it. Maybe he was right; maybe she did truly have terrible taste in men, but somehow she found the Ravager captain and his many facades fascinating. She couldn't help but wonder which was the closest to the truth.

"This time of night?" His voice was low and dangerous. "Don't know if ya figured it out yet, darlin', but a ship full of bored Ravagers gossip about as much as broads in a whore house and shit gets around about as fast too."

"And?" She met the challenge in his crimson gaze. "I thought we just drank to not givin' a damn what other people think."

"I _don't_ care."

The unspoken 'but' hung in the air between them. She didn't really need to be told what followed it. He didn't care what the crew thought of _him_. Long as they followed orders, Yondu couldn't care less if they gossiped about his personal life or anything else, but he _did_ care what they thought of her and Peter. Even after two years, Meredith didn't understand all the details, but she was growing more and more certain that the Centaurian had sacrificed a lot for them. They'd talk about it… eventually, but if he didn't want it to be that night, she wouldn't push him.

"As you like." She handed him her half-empty glass and rose to her feet. "Good night, captain."

The formality felt wrong somehow, but he nodded in acceptance. "Good night, Ms. Quill."

The last thing she saw before the door swished closed behind her was Yondu empty her glass in one gulp.


End file.
